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Despite the cheerful crudity of much of its humour, its jabs at middle class hypocrisy are often as subtle as they are pointed.

A film to be admired more for its vast ambitions than for its actual achievements.

The decision to concentrate on the music is both a blessing and a curse.

I fell asleep several times during the film, but some of it wasn't dreadful, some of it was just bad. Very bad.

Particularly interesting in giving a voice to a generation of people who were children when it happened.

Almereyda jumps straight into the experiment which, over half a century later, is as fascinating and timely and important as ever.

The acting is strong, especialy Ray Winstone, Phil Davis and Steven Waddington.

For me, and I suspect an entire generation, this is the definitive, almost faultless, take on one of English literature’s most powerful and evocative works.

A piece that is in desperate need of some breathing space.

Geeson is impressive in a role which requires her to show weakness and mental fragility yet still keep viewers identifying with her.

Hoskins is at his best here, controlled and manipulative.

Great action direction and cinematography elevate the film beyond what most viewers will expect of the exploitation genre.

It is, of course, Mullan’s film. He brings gravitas and emotional complexity to a story which could easily have collapsed otherwise.

With formal narration which captures the style of the period and similarly distinctive dialogue, the film quickly immerses viewers in its small but volatile world.

Either the Coens have no conception of reality, or the people they write about lost the place half way between there and here.

Nvotová doesn’t shy away from torturing her protagonists while the camera lingers on Michal’s and Zuzka's bodies and minds collapsing inward.

The car racing scenes are the best in the history of cinema.

A kaleidoscopic sequence explores questions of identity through some of the trippiest black and white imagery you'll have seen on the big screen for a long time.

Instead of emoting and getting involved we’re left with a sea of questions.

Its structure aims for Shakespeare, but is little more than shaky, its dialogue is dire and there is enough ham and wood in the performances to make a perfectly good barbecue.

Max Von Sydow's magnificent Emperor Ming is a template against which all future alien rulers have had to measure up.

This is Foster's film from start to finish.

It doesn’t follow the familiar rules of the revenge movie and doesn’t provide the same type of satisfaction. McIntyre is more interested in finding real solutions.

This set-up may be a little clumsy, but lively ensemble performances and magnificent production design give the film has a lived-in feeling, a depth and richness which make its excesses much easier to accept

Playful biopic that rips up chronology and frequently tears down the fourth wall so that we’re never sure if we’re going to be the ones looking into the fishbowl of his life or the ones being inspected.

Hoblit and Emmerich try to engage the viewers' brains rather than using the set-up as an excuse to crowbar in action scenes at every chance.

Friday The 13th is a well made but fairly unremarkable film. What about it could so incense the white male American critic?

There is plenty of intriguing historical backdrop to this story, and Chadwick manages to incorporate much of it without losing focus on the very personal subject at the film's centre.

It is refreshing to see a film which refuses to romanticise this subject matter.

It's not the action or the tension that makes this film important; it's its position at a point of historic and cinematic flux.

Why parody the self-parodying?

The quality of the writing, editing, cinematography and everything else is top-notch, but it’s undoubtedly a bleak, hard watch.

Cushing delivers his lines with a clipped precision that brings absolute conviction to the role.

Though the drama is crudely drawn with familiar Hammer strokes, this is a film that benefits from both tight scripting and a willingness to push boundaries.

Rachel Talalay’s attempts to give Freddy’s Dead a darker, grittier edge are lost beneath the clownish Freddy shenanigans and ridiculous death scenes.

Ivay handles drug scenes with the same level of acuity and confidence seen in classics like Trainspotting and Withnail And I.

There is no reason why this should not be a hoot, but nothing is followed through, as if the writers are desperate to fit everything in before the sentimental finale.

It's nice to see that someone has been paying attention in Film Studies.

Michael Douglas is electrifying.

Portman captures something so rare that it defies description.

Far less conventional than the first film, and less accessible with it, The Girl Who Played With Fire is nevertheless strangely compelling.

Illusions are everywhere in this film.

David Scarpa’s screenplay wisely keeps the political machinations on a slow simmer, so that they are easily followed and don’t get in the way of the nicely worked set-pieces Scott has in store.

The humour is fast, the car chases hairy, the characters way wicked, the venues seedy, the fun accident prone, the sex tantric and the chance of living until tomorrow slim.

Spall commits himself fully to the role.

In places, dark humour seeps into the film like the rot around the hotel windows.

Dismal.

A fascinating and mature ensemble piece